Chapter 9: Dock His Wages

Early the next morning, Yu Chenxue sat at her dressing table while Qiutang combed her hair. The face in the bronze mirror looked distracted, with faint shadows beneath the eyes—a sure sign of a poor night’s sleep.

She had tossed and turned until midnight. When she finally slept, she dreamed that Chen Yanfan stood before her, rattling an abacus so loudly it shook the room, muttering, “That payment isn’t enough. You owe me more.”

She had woken up furious.

“Did you sleep badly, Miss?” Qiutang carefully worked her comb around a knot. “Shall I make you something to help you rest?”

“No.” Chenxue rubbed her temples, then heard a commotion in the courtyard. “What’s going on outside?”

Qiutang peered out but couldn’t tell. Another maid happened to pass along the corridor with a basin of hot water. Hearing the question, she stopped and answered through the window with a grin. “Steward Song is chasing Chen Yanfan around and scolding him. Apparently he ate all the meat buns first thing this morning and didn’t leave a single one for anyone else.”

Chenxue’s hand stopped at her temple.

Qiutang pursed her lips as she fixed a white-jade hairpin in place. “Honestly, how many buns can one man eat? Steward Song can be terribly fierce when he scolds. Last time, he made Xiao Li cry for half the time it takes an incense stick to burn. Still, Chen Yanfan deserves it for being so greedy…”

“I’ll go and see.”

Qiutang’s hand jerked, nearly setting the hairpin crooked. “Miss? The kitchen is full of smoke and grease. Why would you go there?”

Chenxue was already on her feet, straightening her robe. She kept her expression composed. “A servant has been sneaking food from the kitchen. As the young miss of this household, why shouldn’t I look into it? Someone has to maintain discipline.”

She walked out, considerably faster than usual. Qiutang hurried after her, wondering when her mistress had ever cared about household discipline.

The kitchen occupied a low, separate courtyard in the eastern corner of the rear grounds. Large iron pots steamed on stoves built against the wall. The fires were still burning and three steamers were stacked high, but most of the smell of buns had already faded, leaving only a trace on the steamer cloths.

Before Chenxue reached the gate, she heard Steward Song bellowing.

“Six baskets! I steamed six whole baskets of buns, and you ate four and a half by yourself! Are you a pig?”

Yanfan answered more quietly, though he was clearly defending himself. “You said yesterday there would be as many meat buns as I wanted.”

“I meant three or five would fill you up! Who told you to eat forty or fifty? Is your stomach a bottomless pouch? Look at Xiao Li and Xiao Wang—everyone else got two each! How are they supposed to work all morning?”

“Next time I’ll eat more slowly. That’ll give them time to grab some.”

“Is that the point?”

Chenxue stopped at the gate. Yanfan stood by the stove, wearing the coarse apron he used when helping in the kitchen, now covered in flour. He had on the new clothes Song had delivered, not yesterday’s patched jacket. The fit across his shoulders and chest made him look unexpectedly handsome.

Song pointed a ladle at his nose and scolded him, nearly spitting in his face. Yanfan didn’t even flinch; he stood listening, perfectly calm. Several servants watched with bowls in their hands. Some snickered, others sighed, while Xiao Li gnawed half a bun with a deeply aggrieved expression.

Yanfan’s unruffled face almost made Chenxue laugh, but she managed to hold it in. She cleared her throat.

Everyone turned at once. Song nearly dropped his ladle. “Y-Young Miss? Why have you come to the kitchen? It’s dirty here. Don’t come in; the smoke will get on your clothes…”

“I heard someone was sneaking food.” Chenxue strolled into the courtyard with all the dignity of her station, surveying the servants before fixing her gaze on Yanfan. “I came to see who was so bold.”

Xiao Li immediately pointed at him. “It was him! Four and a half baskets out of six! Young Miss, please be fair. Shouldn’t his wages be docked?”

Yanfan finally frowned. The mention of docked wages had plainly struck a nerve. He opened his mouth, met Chenxue’s eyes, and closed it again.